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Sunday, October 16, 2016

P. Anastasia - Dark Diary - Virtual Book Tour

New Adult Paranormal Romance (NON-EROTIC)

Date Published: Sept. 26, 2016

Worlds collide when a young woman with a dark past encounters a young man with an even darker one. More human than vampire, Dark Diary is a quaint, sophisticated romance detailing the accounts of two lovers who have paid the ultimate price... Forbidden romance in the vein of classics like Wuthering Heights, frosted with the seductive allure of the original Dark Shadows, Dark Diary documents a pair torn apart by time. The story is told by a 400-year-old immortal and a 21-year-old modern-day artist.

He's haunted by guilt over the passing of a friend and lover--the daughter of an English Baron in 17th century Ireland.

She's tormented nightly by visions of her own untimely death. Together, they find solace by sharing secrets beneath the light of the moon.

From the author of the Fluorescence Series, this timeless, genre-crossing love story with supernatural undertones, will capture your heart and never let go.

“I will belong to no other.” Muffled by the effects of recently ingested poison, my voice was nearly inaudible.

I clasped my hands together near my lips and closed my eyes to absolve myself. It is often said that you will find God when you are near death, but God was not who I sought.

Lingering on the thought, I glanced down at the icy water sweeping over my bare feet. The rocks were slippery and the darkness made it difficult to see anything besides the reflection of the vigilant moon.

With each step, my legs grew heavier—weaker—until I could stand no longer. I slipped and hit the water with a splash.

The current pushed and pulled at my limbs. Coils of seaweed and dead branches weaved themselves into the curls of my hair as my body swayed against the tide. My fingers glided across waterworn stone, indentations in the rocks catching my fingernails.

Then I felt nothingness.

Life and death battled for my soul, their claws tugging me violently from side to side. The score was easily settled as a wave crashed into my face, filling my mouth and lungs with seawater.

Numb, my limbs no longer responded to my will. As I was dragged deeper through the blackness, my consciousness drifted in and out—my sacrifice to the watery beast, voluntary.

Heavy. Weightless. Then falling forever. Death triumphantly possessed me, a ghostly hand wriggling down my throat to claim my soul. My heart surrendered to the trauma and control over my body faded from my grasp.

A final thought fluttered by and I opened my eyes. Through my blurry, distorted vision, I almost thought I could see him gazing down at me through the ripples of moonlight.

I almost thought I could see him reaching out to me.

“Are you alright?” Matthaya asked, his expression as concerned as always. His fingers brushed against my hand.

I nodded and smiled. “Yes, I’m fine. I was better before he came in, but that’s business. Things don’t bother me the way they used to.”

“I know.” He walked over to the front door, locked the deadbolt, and then switched off our sign and all the lights in the lobby.

“I’m worried about you,” he added. “You aren’t yourself tonight.”

“It’s nothing.” I pulled the drawer from the cash register and carried it into the back room.

This was my shop now. We had purchased it a while back after the owner had died.

Yes, it was the dream, but I feared telling him the truth. It wasn’t the first time I had dreamt it, after all.

“It doesn’t make any sense.” His voice became gruff, and his fingers formed a fist. “There’s no reason for it to haunt you still.”

Ghastly visions terrorized me as I slept and I could not bear the anguish and guilt each unwelcome visit brought. They had occurred for several days in a row and seemed all too abrupt to be a side effect of anything in particular.

Matthaya took the cash drawer from my hands and set it on the table behind us.

Money meant nothing.

“Sit down.” He implored me to rest in a softly padded chair to which he had turned my attention. My head was weary with the endless horrors I endured each night, and he found little comfort in his inability to stop the nightmares. The depression of helplessness slowly crept into his veins and I could feel his sadness growing.

He didn’t deserve this. My love for Matthaya was great—so great, in fact, that I had given up my life to be with him. The least I could do was be honest.

It was dark in the back room. Matthaya struck a match and lit a stout ivory candle for the sheer novelty of it. Gazing upon the warm flames tamed the beast in me.

He set it down in front of me on the table and a soft yellow glow filled the room, bouncing from wall to wall, playing tricks with our shadows.

My sensitive ears twitched from the clink of two wine glasses as he set them on the table and tipped a bottle over them, filling them with rich crimson liquid. The smell teased my senses with intrigue and delight, like a crisp spring breeze. I took a deep breath and filled my lungs with the aura of its purity and youth.

He took a seat beside me.

“Where did you get this?” I asked, swirling the precious drink around in my glass. Such an indulgence was uncommon for us.

His expression turned dark and defensive. “What difference does that make?” he replied firmly, implying that the source was no longer a concern.

I shrugged and relinquished my query.

My lips pressed against the rim of the glass and I poured the drink slowly into my mouth and swallowed. It left my lips painted with scarlet tint, which reflected back at me in the sheen of the glass. Matthaya mirrored my actions, and we shared a much-needed moment of peace in the darkness.

I still remember when a cup of hot milk could settle my tumultuous pangs, but those days are long gone. I set down my glass and ran the edge of my tongue across my lips, savoring the last trace of infant blood.

Many months had passed since we had tasted humans. We sought to keep it that way indefinitely, but the violent churning of nightmares left me susceptible and weak to its sensual charms. Matthaya knew our eternal hunger well, and he knew that a weakened state left me vulnerable to my lust for young blood.

Modern formalities aside, you could call Matthaya my husband. He rescued me from the mortality that plagues you now. Together we share our lives in the darkness. Together we face our fears… our limitations.

It was a choice that I made not long ago. A choice we were forced to make to preserve our feelings for one another. In exchange, we now face the monstrous truth that surrounds the myth that is “forever.”

There is no morning, no dawn, and no dusk. Spring and summer mean nothing to us. There is only the bitterness of winter and the darkness of night.

And while the virile emotions of surrounding mortals infiltrate my mind, the fiery kiss of passionate love has grown cold to my anesthetized skin.

Matthaya and I share our strengths and our weaknesses. This is our world now and, together, we are damned to spend eternity trapped in the icy shadow of the moon’s ghostly light.

My name is Kathera.

I was just like you once.

With character origins tracing back to the late nineties, Dark Diary was the creative leap that sent P. Anastasia plummeting into the literary rabbit hole for good. One of her prized accomplishments, the novel resonates with darkness and passion—the embodiment of her unique storytelling style.

Author of the science fiction tetralogy, Fluorescence, she is no stranger to writing. Drawn to the craft in childhood, she began attempting to produce her first book at age 11.

While working toward her college degree, she wrote news and editorial columns for two campus newspapers. After graduating with a degree in Communications and spending a year studying abroad in Kofu, Japan, she followed her heart to her publishing aspirations. On the side, she enjoys serving as a professional voice talent for radio, television, and audio books.